


Untitled Vikings Work

by salamandererg



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Id Fic, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandererg/pseuds/salamandererg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athelstan has sex with an unnamed blonde man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Vikings Work

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with no knowledge of the Vikings universe or characters, it was born purely out of my obsession with Grantaire and Enjolras for Les Mis. While I am not proud of the most likely bastardized mess I made of Athelstan and Ragnar's characters, I am proud of the writing. Perhaps someone will enjoy it.

The man above him is a god.  He is blond, as so many of them seem to be, but his hair is not ratted or tied back.  It flows over his shoulders much like the intricate looping patterns in metalwork, and it looks soft, though Athelstan does not dare move his hands up to touch.  He fears if he does they will pass right through and confirm that he has been lost in a delusion, so Athelstan keeps them firmly by his side on the pallet, clenching in the blankets.  The man brings himself down once more, jarring a gasp out of his pale lips, followed by a giddy, boyish laugh.  He rides Athelstan like he rides his horse into battle, loose-limbed and fast, with his hair flying around him and a smile on his face.  He looks well-pleased as he strokes himself in time to the fall of his hips, watching Athelstan's face with bright eyes.

Athelstan is overwhelmed.  There is not much he can do but stare up at the young man, the halo the candles create around his hair and the smudges of dirt that do nothing to mar his beauty.  And he is beautiful, the most breathtaking creature Athelstan has seen. The light from the flames only enhance the dreamlike feel of it, as they bounce around the room, catching on odd bits of metal, or flickering from a cool draft that wafts in and chills Athelstan to the bone. But the boy stays hot, hot and slick and laughing as he traces the goosebumps along Athelstan's arms, bending his head down to put a nipple in his mouth. He tongues the skin and sucks lightly while Athelstan gasps, jerking his hips up sharply into the boy when he feels the pain from the bite.

Surely the boy is a trick, he is too beautiful, too skilled, he laughs too much and Athelstan will find himself morphed into some horrid thing some morning. It will be punishment for the crime of penetrating this creature. Of laying passively and enjoying every movement of his hips, every caress of his hands, and watching with lust when the boy touches himself. Athelstan's breath shudders loudly like he has been held underwater and is finally being let up for air, and the young man laughs again, repeating the move that caused that reaction with glee.  This time, Athelstan lifts his hips at the moment it feels right and is rewarded with a sharp gasp that is half surprise and half pleasure.

After that, the man lets Athelstan move more, giving him space to thrust upwards and sets Athelstan's hands on his hips encouraging a tight grip. They go faster, Athelstan can feel his release climbing inside of him and he scrambles, furiously chasing it until it is within his grasp. His shout is muffled by the mouth of the young man, who bent to kiss him at the exact moment, groaning with his own release. Athelstan can feel it on his stomach, even while the other continues to ride him to over-sensitivity and each motion makes him wince.

Finally the man slows and stops, before Athelstan can truly cry out in pain, and lifts himself off completely. He tumbles to the right of the pallet to catch his breath, smiling easily like he has been the whole night. He does not say anything, only kisses Athelstan once more before turning to fall asleep.

Athelstan can recount precisely the actions that ended in this situation, but his mind has been lost since the blond climbed on top of him.  He had tried to protest, once it had become clear what the young man had dragged him here to do, separating them from the rest of the celebration.  The young man, whose name Athelstan is sure he had been told, but cannot remember now, had glowed in the firelight, flushed from good spirits and mead.  Athelstan thought for sure one of Ragnar's gods had come down to play a trick on him, but the hand on his was warm and the man's eyes were kind.

Athelstan had stuttered at the press of lips against his and tried to halt the stripping of clothes, but the young man only laughed and kissed him harder, undressed him faster.

He had spent quickly with the man's hands upon him, much too skilled where Athelstan was not, and had found himself apologizing in his own language, self-conscious for reasons that escaped him.  The man had laughed, but not mocked, bringing Athelstan in for a deeper kiss, tugging at his hair and scraping his nails against his nipples. He encouraged Athelstan to touch him as well, and Athelstan let his hands graze the young man’s shoulders and cheeks, though shied away from anything below his waist. The man seemed to sense his hesitation and gently guided Athelstan’s hand downward, showing him how to cup and stroke. Athelstan was embarrassed to touch, stuttered as the other man moaned into his neck, grinding his hips in obscene ways. The young man stared in absolute delight as Athelstan began to get hard again, giving him a mischievous look underneath his eyelashes before pushing him onto the bed roughly.

His cheeks burn at the memory, at his embarrassment and the eroticism, though he is quite certain that it will become a treasured one he will revisit.

The candles have almost gone out, and now that Athelstan’s thoughts are not distracted by other things, he can feel the bite and chill of the night air. It does nothing to wake his senses though, and he dozes in and out of consciousness with the warmth of another person beside him.

Athelstan turns slowly and lets himself reach over, hand moving slowly and his vision going blurry at the edges from exhaustion. There is something that he feels he has to do before he leaves in the morning, before he falls asleep and forgets.

The strands of delicate, blond hair slip through his fingers, softer than he imagined them to be.

\--

End

\--

Epilogue:

Athelstan stumbles out of the hut the next morning, careful not to wake the other man still sleeping on the pallet, and slowly makes his way over to the fire where Ragnar is already awake and eating. Ragnar gives him a slow, assessing look that strikes Athelstan as not quite approving.

“Is something the matter?” He asks, sitting down swiftly on the ground, an action which seems to take most of the disapproval from Ragnar’s gaze for some reason that Athelstan can’t fathom.

Athelstan’s partner for the night emerges from of the tent at that moment, with his head held high. Athelstan smiles at him and lifts his hand, but is not seen. The boy walks down the path of his village with a fierce stare and Athelstan is hard-pressed to recognize this dour man as the smiling, delighted one from last night. Several men go out of their way to avoid him, one sneers openly, but the man walks on as if with a divine purpose. Athelstan watches this curiously and he regrets not speaking to the man he came to know so intimately last night beyond pleasured gasps, or at least have gotten his name.

“Did he fuck you?” Ragnar asks bluntly, tearing into a large piece of meat.

“What?” Athelstan drags his eyes away.

“Or, rather, did he stick his cock in you?”

Athelstan had thought he was used to Ragnar’s straightforward ways by now, and the loose speech the community used, but this particular phrase left him stunned. He looks down quickly.

“No, he,” Athelstan struggles with the description of the intimate act he had just been a part of, “He climbed on top of me and, he was on top, but I…”

Ragnar laughs loudly at Athelstan’s stammering, “So you let him ride you like a horse? I hope you were an unbroken beast and not a docile farm creature.”

Athelstan hesitates to answer Ragnar, simply based on the connotation and harsh laugh of the other man. “He was, he was beautiful—” He tries once more to explain the moment.

“I don’t care what you do,” Ragnar stares at him, an emotion in his eyes that is not kind, but not unkind either, “You want to fuck men, you fuck men. But keep it to yourself, and kill anyone who says that you do.”

Athelstan does not pick the conversation back up after that, merely nods his head surely enough to satisfy Ragnar and finishes his breakfast. He spares one more glance in the direction the man had walked off in and is surprised to find the blonde looking at him.

Athelstan raises his hand in greeting once more and is delighted by the smile it is returned with.


End file.
